Like Father, Like Son
by Manchester
Summary: At times like these, Wolverine hated his healing factor. That Canadian mutant's ability to recover from any wound or injury also made it impossible for him to commit suicide. Or to at least get so stinking drunk that his brain dribbled out of his ears.


"You're my kid!"

That initial statement had been delivered in a tone of delighted wonder.

However, a few seconds later, after Wolverine had taken a second look at the supreme specimen of geekhood that was known to the long-suffering Scooby Gang as Andrew Wells, who was himself standing there and beaming back at his newly-discovered real father, the man in his yellow and black costume felt the need to repeat himself. Only this time, his assertion was loudly proclaimed in appalled disbelief:

"_You're_ my kid?"

After several more moments of the entire fascinated crowd clustered around and shifting their gazes back and forth between the pair, a cautious question was then asked from somewhere in the rear of the throng. Presumably because of not seeing _any_ kind of resemblance at all between a short, burly guy with fifteen o'clock shadow and an excessively cheerful dork.

"Uh, Logan, how come you're so sure about that, anyway?"

Dazedly tapping the side of his nose with a fingertip, Wolverine managed to mutter, "This doesn't lie. Somehow, he smells just like any son of mine would, people."

A confused rumble of hesitant acceptance came from most of the crowd, which was made up of various members of the X-Men, the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and the New Council. This latter group consisted of Scoobies, Slayers, and Watchers, who on the whole were totally baffled about everything taking place today. Their usual job of protecting the world against supernatural evil had become a bit stranger than usual, what with them inadvertently becoming involved in the latest combat between the two factions of mutants.

The New Council's bemusement wasn't helped at all by watching how a couple of minutes ago, every single one of those costumed participants had promptly ended their awe-inspiring conflict, right in the middle of trading numerous punches, energy blasts, and reciting out loud reams of pretentious dialogue. Once they'd all heard that astonishing declaration from Wolverine, things had immediately changed, so that those guys were all now peacefully standing next to each other, as if they hadn't been wholeheartedly beating the crap out of each other just moments before. Right now, the spandex-dressed crowd were being given extremely incredulous stares by the New Council members, who had the feeling that they were missing something here.

Actually, the mutants on both sides were acting perfectly in character. Just as there was a firm rule among everybody in the DC and Marvel Universes that any two superhuman persons meeting for the first time had to invariably get into a fight with the other stranger without any rational basis at all for this, a further tenet in comicdom also declared that any ongoing hostilities had to immediately cease between everyone on the battlefield if there was ever the chance of some sort of over-the-top drama about to take place.

Such as, the recent discovery of an unknown son.

Trying to wrap his head around how things had just gone wacky in the last few seconds, Xander Harris couldn't help but object, "Now, wait a minute! I grew up with Andrew in the same hometown, seeing him around in Sunnydale, and he went to the same schools that I did! In all that time, you never said a single word about being adopted or anything else, dude!"

That last accusing statement had been directed right at a sheepishly shrugging young man, who now took a deep breath and confessed at length to every enthralled listener.

"Um, I didn't know about it myself, until when we were up against the First Evil and everyone started to make tracks out of town. I went to my old house, hoping to convince who I still thought were my parents to leave Sunnydale, only to find that they'd already gone. There were some papers on the living room table left for me that gave the whole story. How my adoptive mom couldn't have any more kids after Tucker, so they took me in when I was still a baby."

Andrew gulped for some more air, and he continued his story in a slightly more bitter tone.

"Somehow, the Wells family never got around to telling me about this anytime before that, and, um, I wasn't exactly thrilled to find all about it without any kind of advance warning. That's why I never mentioned it to anybody at Buffy's house when I stayed there with all the rest of you guys who were with us then. Looking back, I guess acting like a big jerk and going around filming everyone with my camera was just me trying to deal with what I found out. Hey, I was used to keeping stuff like that a big secret, including what I learned I could do just before I started high school!"

Now, _that_ last part of the speech sounded really interesting. The entire crowd leaned nearer, faces expectant, as a startled Andrew glanced around, to have his own features swiftly shift into actual satisfaction, while this young man now proudly drew himself up at being the focus of everyone's attention. Then, for the first time ever, Andrew Who-Knows-What-His-Last-Name-Is showed off his mutant power to other people.

_snikt_

In the absolute stillness of a mob of several dozen persons staring in sheer incredulity at Andrew, that muted sound created by his latest act hung in the air, a mere echo of a much louder and more terrifying noise often produced by someone else entirely. In the very next second, a massive wave of uproarious laughter coming from numerous throats instantly overwhelmed any other sound.

For the next minute or so, lifelong enemies leaned upon each other for support, hands instinctively holding onto their hated foes' bodies in order to keep from falling onto the ground in their paroxysms of absolute mirth, as such mutants as the Blob, Dazzler, Jubilee, Mystique, and many others, both good and evil, now shared a rare moment of collective hilarity.

The New Council group wasn't doing any better. Xander and the rest of his team were laughing just as hard as those people in their costumes. Only two other individuals there were showing any kind of emotion besides total amusement.

Wolverine was glaring at everyone in sight guffawing at the top of their lungs: his teammates, their enemies, and that bunch of strangers who'd wandered into today's fight. This angry man's hands balled into fists, about to do what he did best, and at this exact homicidal moment, Logan didn't feel all that fussy about who he was going to attack with his-

Someone's arm was gaily thrown around the Canadian's shoulders, and an oddly-muffled voice from someone quite used to being an object of ridicule by every person in his vicinity and right now not caring the slightest then cheerfully said, "Hey, Dad, forget them. Let's go somewhere else where we can have a nice chat. You know, get acquainted, catch up on each others' lives. What do you say?"

An astonished Wolverine turned his head to look up into the face of the younger man at his side smiling down at him while still keeping his arm resting on Logan's shoulders. Despite himself, the mutant from Canada couldn't help staring at Andrew's bone spikes, just like his own ultra-tough, retractable, triple claws that could be extruded through the skin between his knuckles of both hands and then used as murderous weapons.

Andrew's pair of spikes, however, were in no way as impressive or even the least bit scary as those that Wolverine possessed. For one, as presently revealed to the world, they were just the size, length, and width of pencils. _Short_ pencils, exactly like those used to mark golf scorecards.

Most ridiculous of all, the younger mutant's spikes now protruded vertically from his nose, where they'd shot down out of Andrew's nostrils a moment before, accompanied by that silly noise as the spikes slid down to press against the New Council member's lips, making it necessary for him to mumble past what was covering his mouth whenever he needed to talk.

Standing there, his entire body frozen in sheer despondency, James Howlett, aka Logan, aka Wolverine, understood with a sinking feeling in his heart, that his mutant son would always be known throughout the entire superhuman community, starting in the next minute or so whenever somebody in the still-snickering crowd around them finally recovered to say the fatal words, as the guy with the code name of The Walrus.

* * *

Author's Note: Aside from brooding over the other clichés from the comics presented here, there's also the all too familiar point that _nobody _in those four-color issues ever gets a power or ability that's completely useless or idiotic. I just couldn't take that anymore, which in turn produced this little bit of crackfic. Hope you like it!


End file.
